For Eric's Sake (8 page)

"Ow!" Brandy moaned in pain and frustration as he dumped her, wet clothes and all, onto his immaculate couch. "Oh, it really does hurt, but a lot you care!"

He stood back and surveyed her drenched frame, admiring the curving flesh all but exposed to his view. "I care enough to offer to help you undress."

Brandy's face flamed, her eyes darting to Eric hovering anxiously behind Shaw. "You'd better hurry out of those wet clothes," she spoke around Shaw's knees directly to Eric. "Take a warm bath and jump into bed."

"Excellent idea." Shaw turned to Eric, helping him unbutton his shirt. "Can you manage alone, Eric? Or do you need help?"

"I can do it by myself." Eric raised his chin to its highest position.

"And don't forget the teeth!" Brandy warned. "You have to brush his teeth after he finishes," she added for Shaw's benefit. "He misses places."

"Off to the bath with you then." Shaw nudged Eric's shoulder. "You can have the guest bathroom all to yourself."

Brandy smiled after Eric, watching him trudge off like a man in control of his own destiny. "That's very nice of you to be so kind to Eric, Shaw. I'm sure you'll see he's really not any trouble at all."

"Glad to help out." He grinned, casting his eyes back in her direction. "Now, let's see what I can do with you. My bath's big enough for the two of us."

Brandy dragged her damaged frame into a more decorous position. "Wait a minute, Shaw. I think we need to get a few things clear."

"Do we now?" He inclined his ear. "I thought that was what we had done earlier. You needed a husband, I provided. It was your idea, after all, not mine."

"Yes, but—" She waved her hands, hoping he would fill in the blanks without her having to spell everything out. She had never discussed intimacies with a man before and she found it difficult to begin.

"I'm waiting."

"But all I needed was a husband to—to—be a father to Eric."

"A name you could write 'Mrs.' in front of? Someone whose name you could use to fill in the blank marked 'Who will pay this account?' Someone to provide a home for you and Eric?" he demanded.

"Yes, exactly."

"I'm perfectly willing to provide all of that for you, Brandy."

Brandy sighed. "Thank you."

"But the term 'husband' in my book also implies conjugal rights."

Brandy tried to sit up straighter, and the effort reminded her of how much she was depending on her injuries to keep her out of this kind of a situation. "Oh," she cried, "can't you see I'm in pain?"

"I don't believe in headaches." Shaw loomed over her.

"It's not my head that hurts!" Brandy lashed out at him, aware now that subtleties would bounce like a rubber ball off this man when he set his mind to something. "And as far as your conjugal rights are concerned, you can't possibly know what the true qualities of a husband are when you've enjoyed your conjugal rights without the benefit of marriage until now!"

"Can I help it if you made an honest man of me?"

"Let's get one thing straight, Shaw Janus! I am not going to share your bed! If you insist on keeping your bedroom privileges with other women, then you can forget about expecting the same with me."

"I had no idea you felt so strongly about the subject," he said.

"I do!" Brandy glared, sensing victory over Shaw.

He put his hand to his chin and was silent. Then he said quietly, "I guess you're worth giving up other women… for the duration of this marriage. You must be, or I wouldn't have made love to you in the first place last night."

Brandy blushed. He was too astute at turning the conversation to his favor. "I'm not interested," she said, as if she had any choice in a matter Shaw would decide on and carry out in spite of her objections. "Pleasure is all that interests you… and I won't be cold and ruthless about something that should be a warm and loving experience. Get your pleasure elsewhere!"

"Like you did last night?" he asked mockingly.

"That was different!"

"How? Because you got me drunk first?" He laughed. "What a switch. Usually that works the other way around."

"I've already told you I regret the way things happened last night. I regret having involved you in my problems."

"Yet you needed me. And still do, if I'm not mistaken."

Brandy lifted her face, tears flooding her eyes and ready to spill down her cheeks. "That's true, but I won't be blackmailed into keeping you on our side. I've already offered you your freedom."

"After you stole it from me."

"I've admitted that. I've apologized. I've tried to make it up to you in the best way I can."

"This conversation seems to be going round in circles," he said, shaking his head, "while we're both dripping on the furniture and allowing pneumonia to set in. A hot bath and some warm clothes will make a big difference."

"I will not take a bath with you." She cringed as he bent forward to pick her up. "Like Eric, I'm perfectly capable of managing on my own."

"Maybe," he said softly, as he put his arms around her wriggling frame, "but I need someone to scrub my back."

"Don't touch me, Shaw Janus! You don't own me!"

"Don't I?" He held her gaze with his deep, piercing eyes. "You were in my bed this morning. I'm not asking for anything unreasonable, merely a repeat of what must have occurred last night."

Brandy was tempted to tell him nothing had happened, but if she did, he would have absolutely no moral reason to feel responsibility for her and Eric. His words made sense: it was her own doing that had put her in his arms. She just had to remember that it was all for Eric's sake. She might as well get used to the idea. It couldn't be that bad… but would she know what to do? Wouldn't he see through her sham immediately? How could she have allowed herself to be bewitched by his logic?

"Shaw, really, I can manage on my own." Brandy cringed back against the couch.

"Let it never be said I don't live up to my responsibilities." Shaw ignored her protests and placed his hands on each side of her face, trapping her with his eyes. "And one thing I cannot do is ignore a helpless woman, especially one who is in such pain."

"I'll make a quick recovery." Brandy tried to look anywhere but at his lips, hovering so close to her own. She wiggled as best she could in the confined area, and winced with the soreness that was beginning to set in. '"Besides," she tried to look around him, "you haven't brought my clothes up. Why don't you go down to the car for them, and by the time you get back I'll be all finished in the bath? I'll even save you a lot of hot water."

"There's plenty of hot water," he said, his face so close to hers rain droplets fell from his hair onto her cheek, "and more than enough room for the two of us. Trust me."

"I suppose you're speaking from experience about the adequacies of the tub," her voice quivered.

Shaw neither confirmed nor denied it as his mouth descended on her own. "Don't fight me, Brandy," he mumbled against her lips. "You didn't last night."

"How do you know what I did last night?" She shook her face free of his lips, pounding ineffectually with her fists against his chest. "You were so drunk last night you probably don't remember a thing!"

"If I was drunk, it was your fault." He blazed. "I don't make a habit of drowning my senses in drink. But I suppose that was necessary for you to have your way with me, wasn't it? Wasn't it?" he demanded, scooping up both of her flailing hands in one of his.

Brandy couldn't deny it. Alcohol had contributed greatly to her success with him. It seemed there was no way she could fight him now—not with words, nor logic, nor compromise. Tears, she recalled from that morning, had not been such a winning ploy, either.

"You had your way with me last night," his voice could have frozen an ocean. "Now it's your turn to give me equal time."

As his lips came down on hers this time, Brandy found it not an unpleasant sensation—actually, it was very enjoyable. The pressure of his mouth on hers drew her into the spirit of his lovemaking, gently guiding and teasing her lips apart, inviting his questing tongue. Brandy had rarely been kissed before, and never like this. She felt weak and fluttery in her stomach, no longer concerned with the consequences of her actions. Shaw was her husband, legally and morally; there was nothing wrong in what they were doing, unless she wanted an annulment later. An end to the marriage was inevitable since Shaw didn't love her, but she wanted it to end with an annulment rather than a divorce.

But at that moment, she couldn't argue about it. It was too easy to just lay back and follow Shaw's lead.

"You're lovely," Shaw murmured, his hands framing her face, dropping down to the buttons of her blouse, "even when you're as wet as a half-drowned rat."

"You're wonderful for a girl's ego," she sighed, mesmerized by the action of his fingers at the closure of her blouse. The fluttery sensation drifted lower, until she was squirming with impatience at what Shaw would do next. "And you're pretty wet yourself." She placed her arms around his neck as the top three buttons of her blouse came undone.

As the last buttons opened, revealing Brandy's lacy bra, she held her breath. Shaw might have felt her nakedness last night, but he had not seen her bare body—no man had. She usually felt so shy, even in front of a camera with little more than a few scraps of material covering her most intimate parts… why did she feel so eager for Shaw to see her?

Shaw kissed the side of her neck, his hands massaging the swells of her breasts through the thin barrier of her bra.
How restricting clothes can be
, thought Brandy, winding her arms tighter around his neck, her fingers spreading into his hair.

Shaw's kisses dropped lower, his hand sliding behind her back to unclasp her bra. "Will Eric stay in his room?" he asked as he lifted his head, his eyes smoky with desire as they devoured her flushed face and heaving breasts.

"Oh! Eric! I forgot about him."

"Relax." Shaw grinned at her expression. "At least we're making progress if I can make you forget about Eric for a few minutes."

Brandy couldn't reply to that.

"We'd better adjourn to the bedroom for safety's sake," he whispered, effortlessly scooping her up in his arms to carry her there. "Still sore?" His grin widened at her protests.

"I wasn't faking, you know," she retorted.
At least not completely
, she added to herself.

"I know." He smiled, his voice soft and concerned.

He was at the door of the bedroom when the phone rang. Brandy was tempted to tell him just to ignore it, and as he hesitated with her in his arms, she thought he was probably considering doing just that. Convention got the better of him, though, and he set her gently on her feet. "I won't be long." His smile was a promise of what was to come.

Brandy clung to him for a moment as he steadied her.

"Are you okay on your feet?"

She nodded, her hands reluctant to leave his strong, warm body. "I can manage."

Shaw turned back into the living room and in two long strides reached the phone. Brandy saw him glance back at her lingering in the doorway. What was it about the man that attracted her? she thought. Why had she chosen him for a husband? What was she doing waiting patiently, even eagerly, for him to take her?

She was so lost in her bewildering thoughts that it took several moments before she realized Shaw was speaking to another woman: one of his many girlfriends, no doubt, she thought, and one who obviously expected him to be with her at that moment.

The phone call brought Brandy back to her senses. He was nothing but a playboy. Tonight, she happened to be the object of his attention—probably because she was simply the closest at hand. The fact that they were married made no difference to him. He would take what he wanted when it was offered to him.

But she was not offering any longer, if she could help herself. As she wondered if she could keep to this decision, she slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it behind her.

Shaw hung up the phone almost immediately after the door slammed and started pounding on it.

"Open this door, Brandy. Right now."

"No." She was halfway across the room now, wondering if he could open it despite the lock. He might have a key somewhere in the apartment for emergencies, but she wondered if he'd know where to find it. No female had probably
ever
locked him out of a bedroom before.

"I'm warning you, Brandy, you'd better open this door."

"Why?" she demanded. "So you can continue using your charms on me? I may be your wife, Shaw Janus, at least for the moment, but that doesn't mean you can treat me like the rest of your casual affairs."

"You didn't seem to be objecting to my treatment a minute ago," he countered.

She was momentarily speechless. "I suppose you think all a model does is stand in front of a camera and pose… but I know a lot about acting, too."

Shaw muttered something she couldn't understand.

"What did you say?" she shouted.

"Nothing!"

"Good. If you still have any romantic ideas for the evening, why don't you take them up with your girlfriend? It sounds as if she was expecting you tonight, anyway. I suppose she didn't realize you were occupied. And don't expect me to be so cooperative anymore."

There was no reply through the door, which worried Brandy more than Shaw's taunts. She made a few more nasty comments, and receiving no response, she stomped her way across the room to the bath. A good hot shower was the first thing she needed. Once she calmed down and got out of her wet clothes, she could think about her next move, she thought. She couldn't stay locked in here all night, if only out of decency to Shaw. All of his clothes were in here, and he could be needing a warm bath, also. Of course, he could use Eric's bath, but he would still need fresh clothes.

As Brandy finished the job Shaw had begun of undressing her, she realized she needed clothes worse than Shaw did. She could always place a bundle of his things just outside the door, but she had nothing to wear until he brought her clothes up from the car. In the mood he was in right now, he wouldn't be too excited about doing any favors for her.